


But I Have a Penis

by florahart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Parseltongue Kink, Partially epistolary, Written Pre-Deathly Hallows, draco is snarky, enemies to coparents is that a category, like it's really preggy mpreg with multiples ms pregged, lj community: hd-holidays, mpreg don't say I didn't warn ya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-13
Updated: 2007-01-13
Packaged: 2020-03-20 17:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florahart/pseuds/florahart
Summary: Pregnant?  That's fucking ridiculous.  Go get someone competent.  I can't be, because I am a man....Wait, what, there's a ritual? FML.





	But I Have a Penis

**Author's Note:**

> Please to note: I am posting this to AO3 in May 2019, but wrote it ~twelve and a half years ago, a concept I find as alarming as Harry finds being knocked up. What the hell, passage of time, what are you even doing.
> 
> Ahem.
> 
> Written for lj user dragon_charmer in late 2006 for the hd_holidays exchange community; she wanted a bunch of things, including: seduction, hurt/comfort, dirty talk, Parselsmut, teasing, UST, happy endings, and well-written mpreg. I'm hoping my characterization wasn't too womanized, as that was in the list of things not wanted.
> 
> (Posting here now because I've recently gotten comments on the original and so I wanted to put it somewhere better, but if you think you've read it before, well, maybe you have.)

"I. You. What?" Harry stared at the healer and waited for words that made sense to commence.

None were forthcoming. "I said," the healer repeated, "It would appear you are, in fact, pregnant. I take it you didn't perform one of the rituals deliberately?"

"Rituals? What rituals?" This was getting ridiculous.

The healer peered into his eyes through an odd prism, then tapped his collarbones with a tiny bone mallet. "Are you sure you aren't suffering a headache? You seem rather discomposed."

Harry took a deep breath. "I'm discomposed because you've just told me that I, a man, am pregnant. And you seem to think it's possible I got this way, or rather that way because using _this_ implies something that's true, and since what you're suggesting is impossible, so _that_ way, on purpose. It's impossible because, I repeat, man. Boll--Testicles. Penis. Utter lack of, er, alarming bits which would be appropriate for, you know, growing spare people. Now, honestly. I'm exhausted, I cry--and believe me, that's irritating as all fuck because people notice and it doesn't exactly help with the staring--my ankles are swollen, and all I want to do is _cuddle puppies and other small furry things_ and eat _broccoli_ and _flan_. WHAT THE HELL IS _WRONG_ WITH ME?"

"Mister Potter. There is really no need to shout."

"Sorry. Now. What the hell is _wrong_ with me?"

"I've told you what is wrong, and clearly you don't agree. I suggest a second opinion."

"Excellent."

"I'll send someone--"

"No way. Call them here, and don't tell them your absurd idea, and don't go passing notes, either."

"Mister Potter! Are you suggesting I would--"

"Obviously you don't mind playing some sort of sick joke with my health, so yes, yes I am. Call them in. And don't tell them anything."

"Fine." The healer opened a little conduit in the wall next to the door. "Healer Chauhan, please step into room seventeen."

There was a pause, and then the tinny voice of the receptionist reported, "She'll be right there."

"Thank you." He closed the flap and turned to Harry. "I suppose you wish me to wait here, then?"

"Yes."

The healer shrugged. "Fine. So. What shall we discuss while we wait?"

"My actual condition?"

"Mister Potter. I've told you what your actual condition is. You merely need to wait another five months or so--"

"Five? Oh, so 'pregnant men' only need wait--"

"Honestly. You're surely four months gone or more. The baby is roughly the size of a grapefruit in there--all curled up nicely, of course. Probably about sixteen centimeters or so, head to toe. I'm surprised you haven't felt him moving."

Harry squinted. "Him, huh? You've done nothing to check that, but you can just tell?"

The healer sighed. "It's basic genetics, Mister Potter. Virtually all babies born to men are male. After all, there are only four combinations possible; one cannot result in a viable fetus, and two-thirds of the rest are male. And, because the male body does not, hormonally speaking, support pregnancy the same way, usually female embryos don't survive past the first ten weeks or so. The odds are, it's a boy."

"You've just made that up as you sat here."

"I'm afraid not. You may have to make some rather remarkable adjustments, Mister Potter." A knock sounded at the door, and it swung open. "Ah, and here is Healer Chauhan. I'll just be going, then." He stepped through the door and closed it behind him. The woman who'd just come in turned and looked at the closed door. 

"I'm over here," Harry said. "You can just tell me what the hell is wrong with me, and also, you can tell me how to report him. He's either insane or just mean. Now. My symptoms… Padma?"

She turned back as he spoke. "Oh! Harry."

"Hi. Now. Can you tell me what's wrong? I'm tired all the time. I'm practically irrational with mood swings. My feet hurt. My back hurts."

She frowned and sent a shower of purple sparks over him. "Oh. Well. I'd say your efforts were a success, then, only I don't know why you've left it this long. Goodness. We'll need to get you on the vitamin regimen immediately. It should help, at least, with the exhaustion. Also, there's a quite good mood--"

"My efforts?"

"To get pregnant. I'd say you're at perhaps sixteen, eighteen weeks? Depending on the size of the other father, your own family history, that sort of thing."

Harry stared. "All right, what on earth is _wrong_ with you people? Men. Cannot. Have babies."

Padma blinked. "Sure they can. Well, wizards can. I gather you didn't believe the formula even while you were using it? Now, let's see, you probably did the butterscotch and salamander ritual?"

" _What?_ "

"Well. That one's simplest. Harry, what's wrong? Surely you wanted this, so you should be pleased. Harry?"

"Men. Having babies. With… salamanders?"

Padma's mouth made a small 'o.' "You _didn't_ do this on purpose, did you--oh! Harry." She lifted a brow and explained, a series of words which individually made perfectly good sense and all in order were completely impossible. Finally, she wound up, "Well. You need to tell him, of course. In Britain male pregnancy is unusual enough that there are special laws to--"

"Would you stop acting as though I were pregnant?"

"Harry--"

"Testicles. Penis. All present. Impossible."

Padma sighed and nodded at Harry. "Pick up your wand."

"What?"

"Look. I'm not exactly telling people, but I'm pregnant as well. Early days, and I'm having twins. Now. The visualization charm is _Foetus Imago_ , and the wand work is like this." She traced a pattern in the air. "Go on."

Harry spoke the charm and waved his wand, and a translucent image pulled forward out of Padma, showing two tiny curled embryos facing each other in the air before her.

She nodded. "All right?"

"How do I know that's not an image of your _self_ before you were born?"

"Well, for one thing, Parvati isn't here. For another, she and I aren't identical."

"And those are?"

"One placenta." She traced her finger around the image to show him.

"…Oh."

"So. Now you. No, you go ahead and perform the charm on yourself. That way you'll know I'm not manipulating it."

"You could manipulate it nonverbally."

"And you'd know. You're a good deal stronger a wizard than I am a witch, Harry. I do well with learning, not actual magical strength. Go on, then."

Harry took a breath, then turned his wand toward himself and performed the charm.

The image floated forward out of him; a curled embryo, one as big alone as Padma's two together and much further developed, coalesced and stayed in the air.

Harry did the only thing that seemed to make sense.

He fainted.

\--

_Malfoy._

_It turns out there is a consequence of our interaction last March. I am required to notify you._

_Leaky Cauldron. Friday evening. 5 p.m. to beat the crowd. Shut up, just, if you don't come meet me, apparently there's to be a rather more public notification, and I guarantee, you don't want that. I know you don't trust me but …trust me._

_If you can't make that time, suggest another._

_Grudgingly,  
Harry Potter_

\--

_Potter._

_I don't do command performances. You're going to have to do better than that._

_In annoyance,  
D.M._

\--

_Malfoy,_

_You don't want me to put this in writing in case of delivery error. It's a long-term consequence. You need to know before the rest of the world does._

_5 p.m. tomorrow._

_I'll be waiting._

_Impatiently,  
Harry_

\--

_Potter._

_Before the rest of the world? Please. No one's interested in you any more._

_You'll have to put enough in writing for me to think this is anything other than some pathetic attempt to get a date. _

_In disdain,  
D.M._

\--

_Draco,_

_You may recall our interaction last spring. Usually this sort of consequence does not ensue. In our case, it has._

_Tonight, or it's in the bloody papers tomorrow, and believe me, people will be interested, not entirely because it's me._

_Just fucking come._

_Harry_

\--

Harry slid into his seat in the back and drummed his fingers on the table. The clock read 4:57, and while he'd just now arrived, he'd hoped not to have to wait. 

"The usual, Mister Potter?"

Harry flinched at the appearance of the barman. "Er. No, actually, I'll just have tea, today. I've an appointment later."

"Meeting someone?"

"Yes, though I expect he'll want something stronger. Still, if you can just bring the pot?" He glanced across at the bar, hoping his impatience was clear without being rude.

"Of course." Tom shuffled off and Harry drummed his fingers again. 4:59.

At 5:03, he began mentally composing the note to the papers--he didn't want to advertise any more than he expected Draco would, but once she'd been sure he was all right--after awakening him and giving him chocolate--Padma had been quite clear: under the law, the other father had to be told, and the situation publicly acknowledged. If he didn't do it, St. Mungo's would. He still wasn’t' clear on how it was anyone's business, but there it was.

"Potter."

Harry looked up from his mental wanderings to see Draco sliding into the seat across from him. Draco grimaced as he sat, and adjusted his robes with finicky precision. "Malfoy." 

"Well?"

"Hullo to you, too. Tea?" 

"Just tell me whatever it is you've to say, and we can go about our lives."

"Yes, but it's going to take a moment to explain, and you may want some tea. Or possibly six or ten shots of Firewhisky." He plucked a cup out of the air and set it down, filling it up and sliding it across before he took a moment to set up some light disillusionment charms to deter to the interest of listeners. "Right. So. I've been feeling rather exhausted lately, and I went to St. Mungo's. I mean, Hermione's been pushing me to for, oh, a month or more now, but I hadn't got around to it. Or more like, I'd been too …anxious. Or something."

"Before the spring thaw, Potter."

"Right. Anyway. Apparently, and I swear to you, I'd no idea. Apparently, there are a number of ways wizards--men, with male bits and all--"

"I'm familiar with the term 'men,' for the love of Merlin."

"Right. Number of ways they can become, er."

"Become urr?"

"Pregnant. Become pregnant. Most of those ways require a ritual. You have to do it on purpose."

"Yes, and as you and I have never performed any of those rituals, and Potter, I was drunk, but not that drunk; I do remember; I fail to see what any of this is to do with me."

"You knew this?"

"Yes, and as I say, I've never performed any such ritual with the likes of you."

"Yes, well. There's the bit that's creating the trouble. We sort of maybe did."

"The bit that's creating trouble here is that you were hoping to get your hands on my bank books, I suppose, and that's bollocks, since I know I didn't--"

"Actually, no. Malfoy, surely you're aware I'm not exactly suffering for funds, so even if. Anyway. No, it's that there's at least _one_ method that doesn't require a ritual. It requires a special skill."

"Yes, do tell, Potter. This should be interesting."

"It's known in India. Padma told me, once she worked out that I didn't believe them at all. Only there they warn gay ones, so they know, because otherwise, well, they'd have--"

"India. Again, nothing to do with me, and why the hell was Padma--Patil, I assume?--there?"

"Yes, her, and I know but the reason it's known there is they've a good many snake charmers. She explained the whole thing to me, and that was before she had idea about you or anything."

Draco sighed and drank his tea. "Potter, I've wasted ten perfectly good minutes here. Get on with it."

"Snake charmers are Parselmouths."

"Who charm snakes. Yes, I see how that's relevant."

"Good."

"What?"

"Oh. You were being facetious. Right. Well. Apparently that also means, um, charming, you know, _snakes._ And, er. It's the only non-ritual way to do it. Do the--"

"Yes, I understand the _what_ "

"So we did. That. With the Parseltongue. And it, um, caused--"

"Oh." Draco looked down at his hands, his cheeks going ruddy. "You said 'before she knew about me,' which implies now she does."

"Well. Yes. I told her. Um. Actually, I accused her of colluding with you to play a horrible joke on me. Along about the time I worked out that the only time I'd used Parseltongue during, um, was in March. With you."

"And how did that go?"

"In March? Well, the outcome--"

"I meant the accusation of collusion."

"Oh. Poorly. Anyway. And then, if you do so, charm snakes, while saying certain kinds of things, about such things as taking care or keeping or, I don't remember what all else she said…"

Draco looked back up and stared, all the color draining from his cheeks and a look of horror replacing it. "You said I should be… what did you say? You said it both ways, I gather, but--"

"You were being a shit and talking up how I needed you and your money--by the way, is that a common theme for you? Because you just did it again now, and it's kind of depressing to think that's how you go along, thinking people only want that."

"Money buys a lot."

"Well, yes, I do know that. Still, you were being a shit, and I was being sarcastic and I said yes, you could be my sugar daddy."

"Which means?"

"Uh. That you should give me money in exchange for, er. Not like a whore. In an ongoing, um. Single-party. Something."

"And then I--"

"Yeah."

Draco groaned and poured another cup of tea. "Potter."

"Oh, and this actually gets worse. British law says we have to both publicly acknowledge--"

"You've no idea how it gets worse."

Harry grimaced. "It's going to make things hard for you, isn't it?"

"And you. Though it's _your_ sodding fault, so it hardly seems wrong that your end would be unpleasant."

"Sorry. I really didn't know."

"You just _had_ to go hissing at me--"

"That was the thing?"

"You didn't know? Jesus, Potter. Half the school headed for the showers the _first_ time we heard you do that."

"I. What?"

"It's. As you say. Snake-charming."

"Oh. Um. So that was all that." To his horror, Harry felt the feeling, far too familiar these days, of inappropriate tears welling in his eyes. Honestly. It wasn't as though he cared for Draco Sodding Malfoy, so that Draco didn't give a rat's furry arse about him wasn't relevant to anything.

Draco sighed and drank a third cup of tea, then shook his head. "The reason it's worse, Potter, is that you've made a big sodding mess here, and we're about to be a very fucking public scandal."

"Sorry." Harry blinked rapidly and stared down at his tea. "So, I assume you've no interest in the child?"

Draco poured and downed a fourth cup of tea, then said, tight and low, "more likely, children."

"No, honestly. I'm only having one and I can't believe I just said that because really there is no only here because zero is the only possible appropriate number and--"

" _You're_ only having one. _I_ have an appointment at St. Mungo's. For Monday. To discuss my growing exhaustion, sore feet, digestive discomfort, irritating cramping in my midsection, and inexplicable craving for Eggs Benedict."

Harry noticed his mouth was hanging open and clamped it shut. "You. But. Then. We. Oh." He shook his head. "Well, fuck."

"Quite."

"Er, do you want me to come with you, then? For. Um, in case you need…" Harry trailed off. "Of course, not that _I_ had any such support."

Draco glared. "And I've no idea why anyone would _need_ any such support. Fuck, Potter. It's just a parasite. Still, you're right about what the law says. I've only seen it come up once ever, and they put a bloody full-page advert in the Prophet for three Saturdays running."

"How did I not notice that?"

"How often do you actually read the society pages?"

"Never."

"Right."

"Maybe it doesn't have to be splashy. Maybe it just has to be public. I mean, were the fathers in question all thrilled?"

"Well, they _had_ obviously undergone one of the rituals, so I imagine they might have been."

Harry nodded. "Maybe we can be less ostentatious."

"And make the announcement in the section with the advice columns or something. In very small print."

"We can hope. Should we wait and get it over with all at once?"

"Yes! I certainly don't hope to do it twice."

Harry nodded, glad his emotions had apparently leveled off. "Malfoy?"

"What?"

"Would this mean we're having twins?"

Draco scowled and didn't answer, and then, all at once, they both slid out of their seats and headed for the toilets. 

Harry sighed. Being pregnant was hard on the bladder.

\--

_Potter._

_As suspected, damn you._

_In utter disgust,  
D.M._

\--

_Draco,_

_We're in the same boat. Perhaps we should share experiences? There can't be too many others to talk to._

_Harry_

\--

_Potter._

_Why on earth would I want to talk to anyone? What I want to do is remain home and avoid interaction._

_Coldly,  
D.M._

\--

_Draco,_

_We still have to talk about the public thing. You really want to do that via owl? Mungo's says we have until Thursday week. I'm flexible._

_Harry_

\--

_Potter._

_Your sodding flexibility is part of the difficulty here, and no, I do not want to do it via owl. Since Mungo's already knows, I suggest we meet there. Monday, two o'clock. Be punctual._

_Crampily,  
D. M._

\--

_Draco,_

_You're seriously having cramps? I'm not having cramps. Is that normal? Did they say anything about that? Because you'd think we'd have the same thing at the same time, what with it being all the same day and everything. Also, I wasn't the only one being flexible. God. This isn't entirely my fault. Except for the part about the talking. Okay, it is. Sorry._

_Still, if you really are feeling bad, maybe we should see about getting you, I don't know, some help?_

_Also, what, in the lovely dining facility there? It's not as though they have meeting rooms. Same place as last time. Two is fine._

_With concern,  
Harry_

\--

_Potter._

_Stop being a girl._

_Whatever. Monday. Two. Same place. Until then, sod off._

_Disgustedly,  
D.M._

\--

It had taken an hour of discussion, mostly because Draco was being an insufferable prick, in Harry's opinion, to get it to an announcement they both could live with, which met the publicity requirement and also was as small as possible.

It was, and Harry was proud of this idea, to be in the little-used _unusual housing arrangements_ section of the _Prophet._ He'd explained to the advert-placement form, which wouldn't allow deliberate misplacement, that since each of them was, unusually, housing an embryo, that counted. And it hadn't rejected his ink, so they were good. They'd selected un-bordered, unembellished uncolored text in the smallest font they offered, to say as follows:

_Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter_  
Expecting offspring this winter.  
Questions unwelcome. 

The argument had been over the word 'offspring;' Harry had originally suggested 'babies,' but Draco had wanted something that didn't actually imply that he was _pregnant_ , which was of course completely absurd because he was and after all the point of the announcement was to tell people. And Harry hadn't been willing to go about letting people believe he was carrying two babies, because for one thing, there was no way he was going to get that big (right?) and plus then people would want to come see him and the babies at hospital or something. 

Finally, they'd come upon the term 'offspring,' and as that was nonspecific and might have meant one _or_ two, it satisfied both Draco's ego and the letter of the law. They both signed the form, and it vanished.

"That's that, then," Harry said. "D'you want, I don't know. Should we get a, I was going to say a drink to celebrate, but I guess that's bad."

"I'm not feeling celebratory, Potter."

"I mean, to celebrate completing that stupid thing so Mungo's doesn't. That's worth a cup of tea, isn't it?"

"Only if one's bladder is not evidently being hexed from the inside by one's enemy's parasite."

"Oh, please. My bladder's not exactly enjoying the flamenco dancing your son is doing--"

"Son? How did you--"

"They didn't explain? About the whole genetics thing?"

"Oh. She said something, but I ignored that. It's just Muggle mumbo-jumbo."

"Yes, because Muggles spend a great deal of time studying the probabilities of _male pregnancy_."

Draco scowled. "Point. So, explain."

"Most are male, and of those that are female, most don't survive this far. So, it's like, 90% male."

"For each of us, so only four chances in five they both are."

"That's still a high number, and the chances of both being don't alter the chance of one being."

"I don't want to argue about this."

"You started it, you prick."

"I think it was _your_ prick that started this."

"Fuck you."

"Perfect. We'll just leave at that, then, shall we?"

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Good."

"Good."

They both got up and headed for the toilets.

\--

_Malfoy._

_What the hell?_

_Harry_

\--

_Potter._

_What are you on about? Sod off. I feel like stomped skrewt arse, and it's your fault. Also, why don't you ever use a proper sign-off?_

_Miserably,  
D.M._

\--

_Malfoy._

_The papers._

_It's not tiny, and it's not unspecific. I didn't fucking make it that way. I thought we had a deal._

_I do too sign off, sometimes. I have before. How like you to only observe the instances you'd like to pick at._

_Just for you, pissed-offedly,  
Harry_

\--

_Potter._

_Fuck you. As if I would have made it bigger. What have you done? Also, is this why there is a small army of photographers on my sodding lawn?_

_Much better, as to appropriate letter-writing etiquette._

_Hatefully,  
D.M._

\--

_Draco,_

_Seriously? You didn't do it? I swear, I didn't. Oh, and fuck, I looked--the advert is there the way we said it in the back; it's just also in full-page flashing fucking glory on page two. And it's not Mungo's; I checked with them, too._

_Glad you approve. Are you feeling any better? Because I feel good, except for the flamenco shite._

_With frustration,  
Harry_

\--

_Potter._

_I said before, stomped skrewt arse. Your fault. My skin has gone insane; my stomach hurts, my legs feel rubbery, and I have a headache. You _would_ feel good, fucker._

_Have you notified a solicitor yet?"_

_Disgustingly--and disgustedly,  
D.M._

\--

_Draco,_

_Should I? Would it matter?_

_Curiously,  
Harry_

\--

_Potter._

_Probably not. Look, just stop. I need to sleep._

_Exhaustedly,  
D.M._

\--

"Draco?"

"What the hell are you doing in _my_ bloody flat, Potter? I thought I told you weeks ago, I need to sleep. Also, how did you get in here?" Draco pushed up onto his elbows on the couch, his distended stomach a great deal more apparent than Harry both because he was more slender in the first place, and because he was lying on his back.

"Should I not have been able to get in?"

"After all that sodding press? No non-Malfoy should be able to get within--"

"Baby, then, I guess. Draco, you didn't turn up for your appointment."

"Why, so they could say, 'yes, you're still pregnant?' I can tell that all on my own, thanks."

"No, so they could make sure nothing is wrong, and also, as miserable as you feel it seems like that's a good idea."

"Which doesn't explain why you're here."

Harry rolled his eyes. "My child, hence I am its next of kin other than you. They flooed."

"God. They can't stay out of anything, can they?"

"Look, you look like death. Come on. I'll take you in."

"I don't think so."

"Maybe they can give you something for your headache."

"No."

"Maybe they can give you something for your skin."

"…Does it look so bad _you_ can tell?"

Harry bit his lip. He didn't care about Draco's skin, but it had been in the litany of Bad Feelings. "Just a bit," he said. "You look rather pale. I mean, not the good classy pale you and yours tend to care about. The other kind."

Draco groaned and pushed up further, then swung his legs down to the floor. He stopped there. "I don't think I can Apparate," he said.

"Can't anyway. Don't you listen?"

"Bugger."

"Have to Floo or fly. I can fly you, though."

"You _flew_ here?"

"Sure. I like to fly."

"Where the hell do you live, anyway?" 

"I live where I lived the last time you saw my flat. You may remember that evening…"

"Ugh. Right. Brown carpet, purple chairs. Anyway. Too sodding far to Mungo's. 

"Yes, but think about the spinning of the Floo."

Draco turned distinctly green. 

"See? Come on, then." Harry slipped an arm around Draco's back and helped him up, then with a glance at each other, they headed for the toilet.

With that out of the way, Harry took Draco to the door and mounted his broom. His seat was awkward, but he felt safe still, and wasn't worried about the added weight of Draco. "There we are."

Fortunately, they were quite high up when Draco's stomach rebelled.

\--

_Draco,_

_Any further news? They said they'd let you know by today._

_Waiting,  
Harry._

\--

_Potter._

_Yes. Now leave me alone._

_Swollenly,  
D.M._

\--

_Draco,_

_I wasn't specific enough, so you'll have to pardon me. You've more news? What is it? Is it good? Is there anything you need? Also, why are you swollen? Besides the obvious. Is yours driving you crazy with the kicking? Mine's evidently decided every time I talk I'm starting some sort of code, and it should thump my lungs in reply._

_Anyway._

_Anxious for news,  
Harry_

\--

_Potter._

_You've gone around the twist entirely. Who has that many questions? Something about blood and minerals. I'm exhausted, pale, and thin. Those last two are, if you ask me, perfectly normal, but they seem concerned._

_I'm swollen for the obvious reason, and something about fluid retention. It's disgusting. My ankles look like Quaffles, even if I rest them on pillows all day._

_Mine is more involved with my kidneys, which now hurt constantly, thank you. This was also of concern. Honestly, why do people do this on purpose? Oh, I know, because they wind up feeling all disgustingly healthy, like you and your glowing obnoxious skin. Fucker._

_Crankily,  
D.M._

\--

_Draco!_

_Your ankles are that bad? And constant kidney pain? And is it an iron issue? Or protein? Except that's not a mineral. Okay, Hermione says that's bloody dangerous. Dangerous for women, anyway; the literature on us is a bit sparse. Did they tell you to do anything? Are they monitoring you?_

_Seriously. She's really worried now, and so am I, because what she did find kind of shows, okay, the magic is only supposed to happen once at a time, but I was greedy and wanted, um, more than just the one time and I maybe sort of made you and. Anyway, yours was second and maybe that's why you're having such a hard time. I mean, there's really no literature on that, but still, I feel badly._

_She says get plenty of fluids and if you develop a fever or double vision, you should floo for help immediately._

_Worriedly,  
Harry_

\--

_Potter._

_You told Granger? God. My life is now complete._

_Bloatedly,  
D.M._

_P.S. Yes, my ankles are that bad--the skin is fucking cracking\--and of course it's your bloody fault. I hate you._

\--

_Draco,_

_Of course I did. She wasn't going to not notice me gaining three stone, and honestly, you should be glad she already knew before Ron saw it in the papers, which, by the way, I should mention apparently some reporter placed the larger story, and they won't say who. And yes, I am checking with a solicitor._

_Skin is cracking? That's it. I'm coming there, and don't go stopping me because if I could take down Voldemort's protections, I can take down yours, and then the reporters will be able to get in, too._

_Alarmed,  
Harry_

\--

Draco had parchment and quill in hand when Harry arrived. "Hi."

"Damn it. You didn't even give me time to tell you to fuck off. Also, and I believe I'm repeating myself here, stop being a bloody _girl_ about this."

"Idiot. I brought the stuff Hermione told me, and you're going to put both him and you in danger. Here." Harry tossed the book over Draco to land beyond him on the other side of the bed.

"I am _not_ reading about stages of pregnancy, Potter. This is a _nightmare_ and it's bad enough I have to live with it. I'm not looking at horrifying diagrams of female bits."

"You don't have to. The parts she marked are just about worrying symptoms such as yours." Harry sat down on the edge of the bed next to Draco's feet and adjusted his robe to not be so tight around his growing belly.

"It doesn't look like a tumor on you."

"Doesn't on you, either. It looks like you're pregnant. It's not for much longer, Draco." Harry poked one of Draco's ankles with one finger, leaving a deep impression. "Draco, this is really--did St. Mungo's actually release you like this?"

Draco looked away. "Maybe."

"…Maybe?"

"I promised to rest."

"And have you been?"

"Yes! Where am I going to go like this? I'm wretched, and I can't even walk for five minutes without wheezing and feeling as though I'm going to faint."

"You've learned this by experimentation?"

"Ye--no."

"Uh-huh. And is it getting any better?"

"No. I'm going to be miserable for _weeks_ yet and it's not getting better and--where are you going?" 

Harry continued toward the Floo. "That's my child too, and you're being an idiot, Malfoy. You're endangering him, and it can't go on."

"What?"

"I'm going to bring someone here to look at you." He stepped into the fireplace before Draco had a chance to complain.

It only took half an hour to locate Padma, who was the logical choice for already being aware of the situation, and wait for her to gather supplies, and then they were back in Draco's bedroom. Which was unoccupied. Before Harry even opened his mouth he heard retching from behind the slightly-ajar door on the other side of the bed. He looked at Padma, then went around and pushed at the door.

"Draco?"

"Go away." Draco had stopped retching, for the moment, and was curled up, sweaty, against the tile wall next to the toilet. Harry sighed, and turned back into the bedroom. "Padma? Can you move him back to bed? I would, but--" He broke off, gesturing vaguely at his own stomach. "They said I shouldn't do anything that might be a strain at this point."

Draco shuddered against the wall and groaned. "Don’t let her see--"

"Draco." Harry crossed to the sink and picked up a flannel, wetting it and squeezing out warm water, then washed off Draco's face as Padma came around the bed toward them. "Come on. Got to put you back to bed. You're way more ill than you should be, and Padma needs to see. It's not just the baby you're endangering."

"Like you'd care."

"Yes, well. We can discuss that later. Padma?" Harry stepped back, frowning at the realization that in fact, he was _quite_ bothered by the notion of Draco endangering himself, then followed them back into the main chamber, where Padma was just settling Draco on the mattress. 

"Let's have a look," she said, opening the collar of his robe.

"But!" He clutched at the fabric above his navel, holding it closed, and glared. "It's hideous."

Harry sat down on the other side of the big bed and leaned over on his elbow, then reached with his other hand, setting it on the big bulge of belly. "It's not hideous, and if you're embarrassed, well, we can always examine me next…"

"No one wants to see your freak pregnant belly either, Potter."

"Course. But then we'd be even." He spread his fingers and pressed gently, then grinned at a solid thump. "He doesn't seem to want to be ignored." 

"I really do need to get to skin to do a good examination," Padma said. Harry slid his hand up to wrap around the one clenched in the robe, then scooted closer and pulled.

"Leave me alone, Potter."

"I thought you might like to feel the evidence this one jumps on my bladder, too."

Draco scowled, though the expression was less convincing broken up by a wince, and allowed his hand to be led to Harry's bump while Padma finished undoing his robe.

They both looked up when she inhaled sharply. "Draco! You're a mess!"

"I believe I said that," he said sharply, jerking his hand free to gather his robes closed.

"No, I mean, we have to get this baby out of you soon." She leaned over the edge of the bed and Summoned a device to her hand, pressing it to his skin just above the hipbone.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"To buy some time," she said. "You're both quite certain when you conceived, so we know this baby is in its thirty-first week on the pregnancy calendar."

Draco sighed, but visibly relaxed. "What'd you gi'me?" he asked.

"That should decrease some of the pressure and allow another perhaps two weeks _if_ you stay in bed. Then, we have to get that little guy out. Your body isn't tolerating this well at _all_."

"'s nah' newsh," Draco said.

"You'll need full-time care," Padma admonished.

"I'll stay." Harry didn't realize he was volunteering until he had already done it, but he found he didn't mind; after all, he did feel fine, and it was his fault, more or less.

She lifted a brow, but Draco smiled. "Po'er'll shtay. Tay' care a'mee."

"Right, then. Harry, I'll prepare a list of foods he can have, and let me show you this device…"

Harry nodded, then grimaced. "Right, but first, I've got to go use the toilet. I'll be right back."

\--

_Potter._

_I need ~~bananananas~~ ~~jalape~~ cantaloupe. Immediately._

_Starving,  
D.M._

Harry sighed. Draco had, after sleeping some thirty hours, awakened slightly drunk on the stuff Padma had had him keep administering, and while the new more cheerful manner was nice, he was also demanding as hell, and had had a new whim roughly every five minutes for five days running now. Which, so far, he was sending via owl, apparently because it amused him. Harry wasn't so sure it was funny, but it was harmless, at least.

In any case, he'd said he would stay and care for Draco, and he really _didn't_ want him getting up to fend for himself, so he sent the single remaining Malfoy house-elf (and why Draco didn't have the elf care for him in the first place, Harry had no idea; perhaps it was sheer perversity) for cantaloupe and went back to working on a nice hearty beef soup for lunch. He'd never made it before, but the instructions seemed clear enough, and it was a good project for the morning.

_Potter._

_It better be fresh. Also, what are you doing down there? It smells like candied newt arse._

_My ~~balls~~ feet aren't going to massage themselves, you know._

_Sorely,  
D.M._

Well. It had been a good six minutes between missives this time, so that was something. Harry gaped slightly at the struck out words, wondering whether it was another changing of Draco's mind, an event happening at top speed these days, or a sign of early senility or some sort of come-on. He chose to believe the former, mostly to get his own balls to stop cheering, and set the soup to simmer, then went upstairs with lotion to rub Draco's feet. 

"It's about time you came up!"

"Draco. Your owl arrived less than a minute ago, and also, I was cooking. Nothing involving newts. It took a moment to get it to a point at which it could be left." Harry lifted Draco's leg and ducked under it, then set the foot on his diminishing lap. "Just as well you won't be needing this too much longer; my lap seems to be becoming inhospitable," he said with a grin. He squirted lotion into his palm and rubbed it around his hands, then set to work on the outer arch, which was the area of greatest complaint during the two minutes at a time he allowed Draco up to use the toilet.

"Feels goooooood," Draco said amiably, having evidently exhausted his supply of griping on his first statement. He wiggled his toes to the extent that they could move with all the swelling, and closed his eyes, a ridiculous drunken grin on his face.

Harry rubbed in little circles; Padma had said that doing so might not only feel nice, but also might actually help, along with the drug, to stimulate circulation.

"Potter?"

"Hmm?"

"Why is this happening?'

Harry raised an eyebrow, uncertain where to begin. "This, which? The pregnancy? The trouble with it? The foot-rub?"

"All of it." 

Harry looked up, examining Draco's face as he lay there with his eyes closed until there was a frown and a kick to get his hands moving again. "Sorry."

"You have to keep rubbing."

"Yes, I know. Very sore, very tired." He went back to work on the foot. "Well, it seems your body just isn't holding up very well. Do you think it's a pureblood issue?"

Draco's eyes opened and he glared. "What?"

"Well. Purebloods rarely have very many children; I was just wondering if it were common to have such a hard time, is all."

"There's nothing wrong with Purebloods."

"Wasn't saying there was. Just wondering." Harry reached back and picked up Draco's other foot and brought it forward into his lap. "Why _are_ there so many only-child Purebloods?"

"Because unlike _some_ people, most of us, except for gauche bunches of ginger-haired poverty-stricken ones, choose not to have entire _litters_. Ow!" Harry had smacked, very lightly, at the dig, then gone back to rubbing.

"Well, I'm an only, but not pure."

"Obviously." Draco lifted his head to look pointedly at Harry's midsection.

Harry grinned. "A joke? A joke about the babies? Be still my heart."

"Shut it." Draco closed his eyes again. "Work on my legs, too?"

"Your legs?"

"You know, long, slender--well, usually slender--generally found north of my feet…"

"I know what legs are; you just haven't asked me to rub them before." Harry dripped more lotion on Draco's shin, eliciting a startled jump and muffled _cold!_ "This okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

He rubbed up one leg to the knee and started on the other, losing track of time as he stroked up and down smooth and slow, rhythmically, watching the flesh under his hands as it pushed down and didn't rebound, the impression of his movements staying until he pushed somewhere else. It was …disgusting, actually, but kind of fascinating. He kept rubbing as the elf brought in the cantaloupe, which Draco didn't notice.

"Draco?" he said, poking and prodding at the flesh.

"Hmm?"

"I think this is getting worse . Are you feeling worse?"

"Wha?"

"Are you…" Harry looked up to see Draco's eyes had gone unfocused. "Draco?"

"Hmm?" Draco's eyelids fluttered as he tried to look at Harry and failed.

"Shit. Shit shit shit. Brooly!" The house-elf appeared as Harry dug in the bag of supplies. "Go get Padma. The healer that was here before."

"Brooly is not taking orders from--"

"The person who is seeing to it Brooly's master doesn't go into shock and die?"

"Brooly is going."

Harry turned back to Draco with the device Padma had shown him, and pressed it against Draco's hip again. "Draco? Come on. Wake up."

"Hmm?"

"Shit. Come on. Up up. Padma's coming." _I hope_. "She can take you to hospital."

Draco mumbled something incoherent and pulled Harry toward him. 

"What do you need?"

Draco didn't answer, but just then, Padma and another healer arrived with Brooly and moved Harry aside to organize him for moving.

"Harry, come on," Padma said, beckoning "We need to Apparate him--no, don't worry. _We_ can; the two of you can't for yourselves. Harry blinked and moved toward her, trying to work out quite how his day had gone from soup to hell so quickly. 

"Brooly, the soup," he said as they were Apparated away safely by the healers.

\--

"A girl?" Harry blinked. "But--"

"Yes, yes. We know the odds; as you recall, I was the one who laid them out for you. Still, perhaps it helps to explain why your partner has been so ill."

"Is that common?"

The healer looked over the tops of his half-moon glasses and Harry suddenly felt very young. "Nothing about this, Mister Potter, is common. We've not seen a Parseltongue-induced pregnancy in Britain in two hundred years, and we've certainly never seen two at the same time from a single charm. There are far too many variables to say anything with certainty. Now. Your partner won't be awake until we've had time to repair the internal damage, so--"

"Wait, what? I thought getting him. Er, her. Getting her out would fix--"

"No, I'm afraid he's a bit internally …disorganized."

"Oh. Um. Can I see him?"

"Not now." The healer stared at him for a moment, then reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Go on up to Maternity and Delivery. He needs to stay down here in Spell Damage, but there's no nursery here, so. Go see your daughter."

Harry found himself stumbling up to Maternity and Delivery, not at all certain where he was going and asking directions at least three times before finding his way. As he finally approached, he thought that perhaps the delay had done him good; he was feeling considerably more at ease with words like _my daughter_ and _recovery from spell damage_.

"Ah," said the young witch at the desk. "You must be the other father of…" She stood as she spoke, then paused, eying Harry's midsection. "Or…"

"No, that's right. I'm here to see my daughter while her other father is recovering."

"But you're--"

"I'd noticed, yes. Which way?"

She pointed, frowning, and Harry followed her direction.

\--

_Potter._

_They still aren't letting me up there. It's not at _all_ right that I'm being kept restrained and you get to gallivant about._

_Also, I think someone has performed a highly illegal stitch hex. Every time I move, it feels as though a muscle has pulled entirely in two_

_Sorely,  
D.M._

Harry plucked the internal memo bird out of the air and took the letter. "Your father is disgruntled again," he said to the baby in the tiny cot. She pursed her lips and did a comically uncoordinated dance with her invisible-pale eyebrows at his voice, then settled back to sleep. "I know. I'll wake you when there's actual news."

It had taken him an hour to work up the courage to really look at her, tiny as she was, but approximately a third of a second to fall hard once he had. He was pretty sure this was going to work out to be another opportunity for Draco to tell him to stop being a girl, but he found he wasn't inclined to care.

For the time being, he was mostly staying here, partly because it seemed all wrong to leave her entirely alone--except for the staff--and partly because when he'd gone back down after Draco had been put back together, he'd narrowly missed castration by flying lunch tray.

He sighed. It had been a couple of days. Perhaps things were calmer. He pushed up out of the chair, surprised all over again by how much more difficult getting up was each time he went to do so, even over the course the days here. He walked down the hall, noticing as he went that really, at this point, 'waddle' was a more appropriate description, and headed down to Spell Damage.

"Draco?"

"Decided to show your face, then?"

"I showed it before! You _threw things!_ "

"True."

"When will they let you come see her?"

"No idea."

Harry frowned. "That's unfair."

"Everything about this entire situation is unfair. That it was unplanned, that I managed to have a child with--"

"Children."

"Fine. Though that one could be not mine."

Harry gasped. "Nice. I was about to offer to use Legilimency to let you see her."

"How?"

"Well. I've seen her, and Legilimency would--"

"Honestly, Potter. I doubt you'd have paid enough attention to detail. You probably don't even know what color her hair is."

"Very blonde at the moment. Practically white, though it gleams toward golden in the light."

Draco blinked. "I suppose she has horrid green eyes?"

"No, though they said they usually start blue and change. At the moment they're clear blue, though."

"What's. Never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Harry sighed and sat down. "My back is killing me. And yes, I know, I'm better off than you. Now, do you want to see?"

Draco folded his arms over his chest. "I have every right."

"Yes, I know, you impossible… Fine. _Legilimens!_ Hold still, or I'm going to wind up poking around in your head instead of showing you…"

"She's."

"Perfect?"

"I was going to say, a bit of a runt."

Harry sighed, then deliberately shifted to one of the three times he'd been allowed to hold her briefly. "Convenient size for cuddling, though."

"Malfoys don't cuddle."

"That one does."

"Clearly your influence."

"Clearly." Harry ended the spell and shoved himself up out of his chair again. "I'll see if I can convince them you should come up."

\--

_Potter._

_I can't believe they sent me home with this thing, and I got here and you weren't here any more. What do I know about infants? Honestly. She cries! And makes faces! What am I supposed to do about faces?_

_Brooly is useless; he points out he is male and knows nothing about babies. I think he's making fun of me._

_In a state of panic,  
D.M._

\--

_Draco,_

_I wasn't so sure you'd want me there. What with thinking the child I'm carrying (still, so at least you got off easy in that regard) is maybe not yours and all._

_I expect you do different things depending whether the face is happy or angry. Happy is the one where the sides of the mouth turn up toward the eyes; I realize that's a foreign concept to un-cuddling Malfoys._

_Bloatedly,  
Harry_

\--

_Potter._

_Honestly. I didn't mean that. I mean, I did, because bugger if I know what the hell your motivations are for taking a bloke to bed, but I don't really think you accidentally hissed the wrong words at two one-night-stands in the same week or so._

_Her eyes are turning green, by the way. Also, she cries a lot. I think you might have been better at the cuddling. Or she imprinted on you or something._

_Overtiredly,  
D.M._

\--

_Draco,_

_Somehow the suggestion you feel confident because you don't think I could pull two the same week really isn't a huge improvement._

_Just hold her._

_Also, really, would it kill you to address me (and you) by name?_

_Hugely,  
Harry_

\--

_~~Potter~~ Harry._

_Better?_

_I guess my hints aren't working. You must be unusually thick._

_I think you should come see her._

_Horrified by having said that,  
~~D.~~ Draco_

\--

"Draco?" Harry followed the sound of squalling infant from the entry hall up the stairs.

"Up here. Always up here." Draco had his back to the door amid a cloud of talcum powder. He turned. "See? Always crying."

Harry waddled over and waved his hand in front of his face. "God, were you under the impression her arse was the size of Hagrid's? She's two inches wide! She can't need this much powder!" He picked her up from the cloud and rested her against his chest. "Hi."

She grabbed at his lapel and curled against him. Draco scowled. "See? She just _likes_ you better."

Harry rolled his eyes and gently turned the infant, then set her against Draco's chest and moved Draco's hands to cradle her. "Maybe not."

"Oh." 

"Pat. They said, at the hospital. I don't actually know any more about this than you do, and given the environment in which I was raised, I don't have much to fall back on."

Draco looked at Harry for the first time other than a cursory glance before, then stopped and looked again. "You look like shit."

"Thanks."

"No, I mean…"

"I'm just tired, Draco." Harry backed toward one of the rocking chairs he'd come past and sat down with a thump. 

Draco sat in the other one, still patting. 

"And I want to be here with her too, but I'm not going to let you say horrible things to me."

"What? I've always said--"

"Not in the presence of an infant, you haven't." Draco gaped, but Harry pulled himself upright and stood again. "You've got yours, she's fine, and I'm tired. I'll just go, now."

"I. Let me put her down. I think she's ready to sleep. Then I'll, um. See you out."

"No need. I've no desire to remain, and I'm certainly not going to steal the silver."

"Just. Hold on." Draco pointed his wand ahead of him and cleared up the powder residue, then put the baby down. She snorted, but settled, and Draco followed Harry out of the room and toward the stairs.

"This is fun," Harry said. "Glad I waited."

"Potter. Look. I mean, Harry. I mean. Just, would you come here?"

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"Lovely. No. Look, Draco, I'm tired, and I don't want to shout and wake her up."

"Then, don't."

"I told you. I'm not going to let you be horrible to me. Also, I'm not going to let you order me around."

"What? Oh. I mean, because I _asked_ you to. Um."

"Why would you ask me to?"

Draco sighed. "Can you just."

"Look, if I sit down again, I'm staying down. And if I do it here, I'm bloody well making you rub my feet."

"I. All right."

"All right?"

"All right."

Harry raised his eyebrows, but let Draco lead him into the bedroom from which they'd gone in such a rush weeks before, and let himself be settled on the bed, feet up. "Can you hear her from here?"

"Yes. Take off your shoes."

"Why the hell are you rubbing my feet, and also, I think we just discussed ordering around."

"Um. Because you did?"

"Yes, well, I also cuddled your daughter while you weren't available to, but Malfoys don't cuddle, so--"

"Potter, I'm trying here. And I did cuddle her. Kind of. Before."

"Have you even named her yet?"

"No." Draco looked down at Harry's shoes, which he was unlacing since Harry had made no move to do so, and changed the subject. "I think you're losing weight."

Harry stared. "What?"

"I mean, except for the, you know." Draco waved.

"I'm pretty sure I'm not."

"Well, I think you need porridge. With fruit in it. And nuts, and cream… Brooly!"

"Brooly is here, sir."

"Porridge!"

Harry turned his head to look at the elf. "How'd you get one to talk …not like Dobby?"

The elf glared, enlarging its bulbous eyes even further than they had already been. "That name is not to be mentioned in the presence of--"

"Sorry. I actually had forgotten. Anyway. Oh, _god_ , Draco had removed his shoes and was now doing the same sort of massage Harry had done, weeks ago.

"Porridge," Draco said again. "With the apples and cranberries."

Brooly vanished, and Draco went back to rubbing.

"Draco, I don't even especially like porridge. Or cranberries."

Draco shrugged. "More for me." Harry laughed and relaxed on the bed.

"Draco?" he said, a moment later.

"Potter?"

"Harry. Anyway. Why are you rubbing my feet?'

"Don't question it."

"Ah." Harry fell silent for a moment. "Why haven't you named her?"

"Honestly, Potter. I knew you were a heathen, but--"

"What? You're waiting for, like, baptism?"

"What? No. Naming a child is something the parents do together, whether they like each other or not."

"Oh. Um. Okay. Should we do that now?"

"You've barely met her."

"No, I spent some time with her early on. I don't think she's an Ethel."

Draco's hands froze for a moment. "Ew. Perhaps I should do the suggesting."

"I wasn't suggesting that; I was anti-suggesting it. Oh, right there. Yes, like that."

"Still. Dahlia?"

"What?"

"For a name. You know, like the flower?"

"Like my mother."

"I was thinking of mine, actually."

"Oh. Right, actually. Um, Rose?"

"Plain! Gladiola."

"You can't be serious. Daisy."

Draco scowled. "Nasturtia."

"Honestly. Were you never ten? You think there's any chance that wouldn’t get trimmed down to 'Nasty?' I'd rather not have my daughter named Nasty."

"Who would dare?"

"Every other ten year old in the vicinity?"

"Not _my_ \--"

Harry raised up onto his elbows. "Yes, your daughter, unless you want to raise her as sheltered as you were, and I believe that night, shortly before the rather phenomenal amount of fucking, you were grumbling drunkenly about how you'd never been allowed to do anything. Or anyone."

"You remember that?"

"I remember just about everything about that night. I wasn't really drunk."

"What?"

"You were, and I was drinking with you, it's just I don't tend to get particularly tipsy, and even if I do, I don't forget things that I do meanwhile. Or that others do."

Draco's hands stilled again. "That's completely unfair. That means you have a perfect memory of my arse, and I'm stuck with a muddy blurry--"

"You've been trying to remember my arse?"

"What?"

"Well, if you know the image is muddy and blurry and whatnot--"

"Oh. Er. Maybe."

"Go back to rubbing. And yes, I do remember your arse. I remember how you're so pale in the crease between your leg and thigh that there are at least three distinct veins on each side to trace over with my tongue. Oi, you stopped again."

"Sorry."

"And I remember that you curve to the left--your left; my right." Harry hooked a finger inside his mouth and pulled to the right, then let go. "Right there, I remember the feeling of your head--"

"God."

"I remember that you wanted to be on all fours and then just as I was sliding into you, sliding in all slick because we both said the lube charm at the same time and it was warm and you were ready and I was _so_ ready and then you wanted to see, wanted to watch. You stopped again."

"I did not! That's how we wound up with Poinsettia!"

"I meant now, and oh my _god_ we are not naming her Poinsettia. Pointy. I'm sure she'll be slender, and she probably has your chin, but that would be a bit much."

"What else do you, um, remember."

"I remember we'd already fucked against the wall and over the back of the couch and on the table--"

"We did _not_ do it on the table. How crass."

"We did, and you'll be pleased to learn we cracked one leg slightly. I look at it every day. The crack. Your crack."

Draco groaned. "You still _have_ the table? In your _kitchen_?"

"Sure. Still good for at least one more go, after all." Harry was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be thinking about sex _now_ , not with thirty pounds of extra middle and a baby in the next room to boot, but all this remembering had roused his cock despite his earlier tiredness, and, at a glance, despite the loose robe, he was nearly sure Draco was interested, too. "Or we could stick with the bed, for now."

"Now?"

"Unless we're just reminiscing."

Draco's hands slid up Harry's shins. "Reminisce some more."

"And I'd used Parseltongue--"

"Can you now?"

"Perv, and no."

"Why not?"

"I want to charm your snake on my own merits, thanks."

"Will you, once I'm already fucking you?"

"Who says you get to--"

"You're already on your back, and also, hissing or not, you can't get pregnant right now."

Harry snorted. "As far as we know."

Draco's eyes went wide. "Oh, _god_." Still, his fingers were still sliding up Harry's thighs, pushing his robe up and out of the way, and all at once he leaned forward, rolling up onto his knee, other foot flat on the floor, drawing Harry's knees up. 

"Er. I don't know if, uh. I might actually _have_ to be on all fours. Or something." Harry started to roll, but Draco stopped him. 

"Wait."

"Why?"

Draco moved off the bed, then used his wand to transfigure it taller, and, or good measure, banished both of their robes. Harry winced at the chilly air on his skin, but then Draco was pulling at his legs, directing him to the edge of the bed and standing right there, hard cock running alongside Harry's balls and brushing the lower curve of his great belly. "Like this work?"

Harry just groaned and reached around his stomach with both hands, grasping his own cock in one hand and Draco's in the other. "It'll work. Fuck." 

Draco Summoned his wand from the robes that had folded themselves on the chair and muttered a lubrication charm, slicking both their cocks in Harry's hands, then leaning forward, one hand on each side of Harry, thrusting and groaning, and Harry found himself trying to awkwardly arch up against the absurd shape of his lower body, which was, apparently, far from flexible these days. "Come on," he urged, frustrated.

"What?" That was a grunt, not a real word, but Harry understood it anyway.

"Just. Get. This is. Please?"

"Please what?" Draco had stilled--well, not quite; he was still flexing and stretching the muscles of his arse, but he wasn't moving much and was looking down at Harry with something that might possibly be …concern?

"Please. Just. Inside? Please?" Harry was a bit startled by how badly he wanted that, but it had been months, and now that he'd started down this path he found himself needy, almost desperate, and before he thought about it too hard, he was begging again, hissing the words Draco didn't quite understand.

Draco bit his lip and closed his eyes, then shifted his weight left and put his right hand over Harry's mouth. "You said you didn't want that."

"Yes, but I want--"

"Say, Potter. Say what you want." Draco opened his eyes again and stood up, stepping back. "Without that."

"I want." Harry groaned, squeezing his cock and trying unsuccessfully to reach down past his balls. "I want you to." He settled for gripping the flesh of his inner thigh hard, holding on as hard as he wanted to grab Draco's arse and pull him in. "Want you inside me. Please."

Draco lifted a brow. "You're sure it's not too much? You're rather, um."

"Unappealing?" Harry sighed. "I just. I'm--"

"Fuck. No. Delicate."

Harry laughed. "Oh, fuck. I look _delicate?_ I look like a _whale_ on bleeding _growth hormone_."

Draco snorted. "Do not. You sure?"

"So sure." Harry planted his heels against the edge of the bed and pulled his arse that last inch closer, then hooked his ankles around Draco's thighs and pulled. "Get here. Holding my legs up without something to wrap them around is too hard."

Draco stepped forward and picked his wand up again, recasting the lubrication charm and positioning himself carefully. "All right?"

"Malfoy. I want sex, not some sort of examination."

"I'm not exactly a mediwizard." Draco pushed forward slightly and they both groaned.

"Just as well. I'm nearly sure. That's not an accepted practice." Harry tugged with his ankles again, forcing Draco deeper into him. "Damn. Been a long, long time."

"Me too."

"Good." Harry hadn't actually meant to go back to Parseltongue for that, but once he'd started, the words flowed, sinuous and slow, _so good, like that, I've wanted this for months, months, and how did this we ever wait this long and why do I need this?_

"What are you saying?" Draco's eyes had glazed over and he was shaking, moving slowly, shoulders straining over Harry as he supported himself up off Harry's stomach.

"Nothing."

"Not nothing. Tell me."

"Just. It's good. So good. We should do this. All the time." _All the time every day every morning before breakfast and after supper_.

Draco moved a little faster, straightening to grip Harry's thigh and wrap his hand around Harry's pumping Harry's cock, knuckles grazing the hard bulge above. "We should. All the. Time. Is that. A threat?"

"Hell yes," Harry said. "Fuck. Too close."

"No. Such thing."

"Too soon. Don't want. Too soon." _And I don't want to stop because what if after you change your mind and fuck._

"Close. Too. Just. Tell me. Tell me about. Threat."

"Every morning. We could. Oh." Harry tugged hard with both his hand and his feet, spurting hard over his stomach, wave after wave as he watched Draco watch and bite his lip, glad it was only a moment later that Draco's eyes rolled and he was coming too, coming and then pulling away to flop down next to Harry, spent. 

"That," he said, panting, "Is the least effective threat ever."

"You don't want that?"

"Fuck. No, it's a lousy _threat_. It's a pretty good _promise,_ though." 

Harry grinned. "Oh. Right. That's …ow."

"Ow?"

"Ow, a _lot_. Shit. _Ow_." Harry rolled away, onto his side and up onto all fours. "Shit."

"Ow, like, go get--"

"Yes. Go get Padma. Or someone. Shit, toss me a robe of some sort?"

"She's probably seen worse."

"You are _not_ going to Mungo's like that. But fuck. Get dressed. Fast."

"Is it something wrong?"

"Well, it _hurts_ like a motherfucker, and just go. Oh, wait. Will Brooly take care of …Jasmine in there? Ow! Damn, it's like it's in waves."

Draco nodded, then ran from the room.

Harry gritted his teeth and waited.

\--

_Harry,_

_When are you coming back?_

_Anxiously,  
Draco_

\--

_Draco,_

_When they let us out. You could come visit._

_Bored to tears, and also sore,  
Harry_

\--

_Harry,_

_Honestly. There are sick people there. I can't bring Chrysanthemum into that environment!_

_Hurry home,  
Draco_

\--

_Draco,_

_Home? Seriously? And honestly, Juniper would be fine. She could come see Kate. Whom I notice you haven't been back to see._

_Come on. Bored bored bored,  
Harry_

\--

_Harry,_

_Kate? Please. Esmeralda._

_I have been, briefly. You were asleep._

_We can name them when we have them both here._

_Draco_

\--

_Draco,_

_No sign-off? Etiquette! Fine. We'll be home by the time you read this._

_Turn around.  
Harry_

\--

"Brooly's been busy, I see."

Draco spun. "Nice. Hi."

"It _said_ turn around." Harry stepped forward, moving slowly still as the wound healed. "And, the Christmas decorations are nice."

"One cannot have a proper family Christmas without wreaths."

"Of course." Harry managed not to roll his eyes, though given his experience with family Christmases, he rather thought having a pleasant general demeanor towards others in the home was really quite enough.

"You're laughing."

"No. This is _smiling_. I'm happy."

"Oh."

"So. I've been thinking."

"Always dangerous." Draco said this with a perfectly straight face, but Harry stuck out his tongue.

"Snot."

"You can't call me a snot in front of my daughter!"

"Can if you say thinking is dangerous!"

"Fine. What were you thinking, then?"

"This is Camellia."

"Camellia?"

"Means some kind of rose, or something, but also means gratitude."

Draco paused. "For?"

"The obvious, I should think. We'd never have organized ourselves."

"I suppose you've named mine, too?"

"I. Maybe? I was thinking maybe Coriander? Means hidden worth."

"What, did you find a florist and poke about in his mind?"

"Maybe. 

"What?"

Harry laughed. "No, Hermione brought me a book of names, and when I said we were arguing over flowers, she went and fetched one with flowers."

"Coriander, huh?"

"You hate it."

"No!"

"Not feminine enough?"

"What? No. That's not. I …like it, actually."

"You do? For both?"

"I think I do. Though next time, I get to pick the names."

"Of course."

Draco blinked. "I was kidding."

Harry laughed. "I know. Come on. I think they should meet."

"Mine's going to get jealous, you know." 

"She'll get over it. She gets a sister out of the deal."

"How did we end up with both girls?"

Harry shrugged. "I've always been good at beating the odds." He wrapped his free arm around Draco's waist and started slowly toward the nursery.


End file.
